Repetition of the unthinkable
by Captain Simpson
Summary: When the latest passenger starship in Starfleet's civillian fleet, the Starship Titanic, sets out on its maiden voyage, a 500 year old disaster repeats itself with the same, devastating results.


Captain Hardaker stared in disbelief at the objects closing on their position

Captain Hardaker stared in disbelief at the objects closing on their position. The single meteor, glowing as it sped towards them, was mesmerisingly fatal. 'Helm, hard to starboard. All stop.' The Starship Titanic banked to starboard, shattering the meteor into two large chunks. 'Captain, we have taken damage to our bow….' The meteor chunks struck the hull of the ship, exploding as it hit the depolarised plates. The second chunk hit the deck, destroying an escape craft. 'Daniel, what's the closest planet we can reach?' First officer Hawkins sat in the helmsman seat, and found a planet. 'Captain, the Centauri system is within 200 lightyears. Mostly uninhabited. Centauri 4 supports a proto-human society in the early stages of pre-historic development. That seems the ideal place to set her down.' Captain Hardaker looked around, and called engineering. 'Engineer Bell, what's the status of the warp core?' Hardaker heard the scrunching of papers and the beep of buttons as the engineer responded. 'Slight damage to the plasma storage tanks, I would say that to be safe, a maximum speed of warp 5.' Hardaker closed the line and left the bridge, as the architect came into the room. 'Dan, the damage is worse than it looks. The starboard impulse generator has been seriously damaged, the warp coolant systems are shutting down and life support is close to failing. We have an hour, two at most before we are destroyed.'

Engineer Bell frantically tapped commands into a console as the computer repeatedly alarmed them of the situation. '_Warning. Plasma conduits have been damaged. Warp core shutdown in twenty five minutes. Warning. Hull breach on decks 7 and 6. forcefields inoperable. Warning. Hull breach on deck 2. Auxiliary shuttlecraft ten has been destroyed. Warning. Plasma leak on deck 7, section 4. Radiation levels reaching critical levels. Warning. Structural integrity field collapse in two hours and fifteen minutes.' _Bell slammed his fist on the console, the engineers around him jumping as the sound echoed around the room. 'Hawkins, shut that bloody computer off. We know what is happening. Jenson, get those forcefields activated. The rest of you, get to the affected decks and seal them off. Evacuate the passengers on deck 6.' The three men moved out as Captain Hardaker walked in. 'Chief engineer, what is the maximum amount of time that we can expect the forcefields to be activated? And when can we achieve warp velocity?' Bell moved over to the 'Pool Table' at the entrance to engineering, and pulled up a schematic of the ship with the damaged areas. 'Captain, forcefields are inoperative. I have sent ensign Jenson to sort out the problem. They should be active in several…' his voice tailed off as the computer spoke again. '_Forcefields activated. Hull breaches contained.' _Bell sighed with relief as Jenson emerged through a Jeffries tube access. 'Captain, the forcefields will not hold for long. The generator was hit when the meteor struck. I suggest we leave at once.'

The Titanic sat motionless in space, the wreckage of shuttlecraft ten floating past them. On the bridge, First officer Hawkins paced and tapped commands into consoles, the bridge crew milling around and staring at the viewscreen. Suddenly, a ship appeared in view, a Klingon ship. 'Dan, registries identify this ship as the IKS Praxis.' But, the ship turned and sailed past them, jumping to warp before a message could be sent. 'That's it! I'm never trusting those Klingon bastards again.' Another ship entered range, a federation ship. 'Sir, it's the Enterprise! Registry NCC 1701 F. Captain Simpson is hailing us. Damn, the transceiver array is damaged. We will only be able to send a partial message, about five minutes long.' Officer Hawkins smiled as the image appeared on the viewscreen, interrupted frequently by a drop in transceiver activity.

'Captain Simpson, this will have to be short. Our transceiver array is damaged and cannot be repaired. We have been struck by a meteor and have taken damage. You will not be able to scan the ship as a plasma leak has 'cloaked' our ship. That's it! That's why the Klingons didn't see us. We are attempting to make it to the centauri system and safely unload the passengers. I hope that we shall meet then. Titanic out.' A large spark and plume of smoke appeared from the communications screen, the transceiver assembly shutting down. 'That's it, Dan. No more outgoing messages.'

Captain Hardaker looked into the ornate carved door on deck 6, the area behind it shifting into charred wood and the darkness of space. A meter on the wall also told him that radiation levels had reached critical levels. Moving towards the Grand Staircase, the ships architect, Henry Grayling, stopped Hardaker and laid out plans on an ornate coffee table. 'We can make it to Centauri 4 at warp 7. But, we will have to eject the core when we reach the planet. It's the only way.' Captain Hardaker looked at grayling as he took out a piece of paper and a pen. 'Henry, what is your plan? I hope that it is not that we enter the atmosphere and control a landing on the surface? There is a proto-human culture forming on this planet. We cannot interfere.' Henry turned over the blueprints and showed him another set of plans. 'Captain, John, if we enter a high orbit, we can land in the northern ocean. As it is a class m planet, the ocean should have the same properties as the oceans of earth. And, the population is concentrated on the southern continent; the northern continent is mostly uninhabited.' Captain Hardaker moved to a wall panel, and called the bridge. 'Dan, set course for Centauri 4, Warp 9.' The titanic moved slowly, the forcefields flickering as the power drained from them. From the side of the ship at the stern, two warp nacelles emerged and locked in position, the turquoise blue colour charging up. The colour fixed, and the ship shot into space, the destroyed shuttlecraft remaining to mark their last location.

'_Warning, warp coolant systems are malfunctioning. Plasma conduits on deck 6 have ruptured. Warp core breach in twenty three minutes.' _The Titanic shot out of warp, the force spinning her out of control. 'Captain, inertial stabilisers have failed. I suggest ejecting the warp core. _Warp core breach in twenty minutes. _We can use what remains of the impulse engines to control our descent.' Captain Hardaker flicked open the case of the core ejection system, and inserted his key. 'Computer, execute core ejection system, authorisation Hardaker 54365 alpha 4.' Over the engineering channel, the voice of Engineer Bell echoed around the bridge. _'Execute core ejection systems, authorisation Bell 32641 omega 2 engage.' _A rumble was heard as the ejection hatch opened, and then closed. Suddenly, a large jolt was felt as the antimatter injector smashed into the underside of the ship, the shields taking the brunt of the impact. '_Warp core ejected. Closing hatch doors.' _

The warp core floated in space, when suddenly it exploded, sending out a large shockwave that struck the titanic, forcing it into the atmosphere of Centauri 4. 'Captain, inertial stabilisers back online. We are in a controlled descent. That blast from the warp core must have knocked them into shape.' Orange bands flashed across the outer hull of the ship, a blackening soot gathering on all exposed surfaces. From the bridge, the glinting blue of an ocean sprawled in front of them, lighted by the friction from the ship. The bow hit the sea first, then the stern. Finally settling into a level position, the titanic stopped.

'Captain, internal chronometer reads the time as 11.40pm on earth. Shall I note it into the log?' Hardaker stood on the bridge, a blinking light on the MSD behind him telling him bad news. 'Dan, the forcefield generator failed on impact with the water. We will sink. Prepare the passengers for emergency evacuation.' Moving to the ops position, Hardaker saw that the emergency beacon was still active. 'James, can we boost power to the emergency transceiver to send a broadcast hail to all ships in the area?' James looked at the power transfer screen and saw the emergency transceiver, still intact. 'Yes captain. I will need another officer to help. I will do it from the communications room on this deck. I can patch it straight into the deflector, sending out a kind of emergency pulse. When it hits another ship, it will activate their communications receiver, hopefully.'

On the "boat" deck, crewmen prepared shuttlecraft 6 for launch, as passengers milled around on deck. Above them, a blue pulse shot from the deflector array, on the third funnel. One passenger, Mary Stevenson, watched as the shuttles lifted off the deck, and stopped over the side, as the rear doors opened. 'Attention passengers. We will begin evacuating the passengers women, or females and children first. All men, or males, will wait until the females have left the ship.' Mary looked at the shuttle, and walked over, the door creaking and lowering as she walked on it. 'Hey, it's ok! Good old Starfleet technology.' The shuttle settled as 11 more passengers entered the craft, a shuttle built for 50 occupants. Setting off, it circled the ship as the blue forcefields collapsed, the ship settling lower into the water. Captain Hardaker stared at the forecastle deck, the bow sinking further down as it sank. 'Dan, inform Engineer Bell that I am on my way down to engineering. We need those forcefields at least partially operable.'

Engineer Bell hurried to the power distribution console, the room now at an angle. 'Henson, get those emergency seals online, we need to secure the room if the ship sinks. Shit. Jensen, get those forcefield projectors to the affected decks. We need to be afloat at least an hour to save the passengers.' Captain Hardaker entered engineering, the incline of the ship causing him to stumble. 'Joseph, can we reactivate the forcefields? The ship will not last long.' Bell walked over to the power console, and tapped commands and keys. 'Captain, we can get emergency forcefields to protect the bridge and engineering but no further. The ship will sink.'

The Bow of the Titanic sank lower into the water, the ship slowly inclining downwards. Henry Grayling, seeing shuttlecraft 12 being launched, approached second officer Hanover and stopped him. 'Mr Hanover, why are the shuttles being launched half full? These are designed to take 70 personnel. I saw one with only 12 passengers, 12!' Hanover took grayling to the side and spoke to him, passengers milling around them. 'Mr Grayling, these shuttles may not be able to leave the atmosphere. They may buckle.' Grayling laughed and took Hanover by the neck, and pushed him against the shuttle. 'Listen to me. These shuttles have been built to withstand the force of a type 42 plasma storm. They will not buckle when leaving a sodding planet! Now fill them to capacity for god's sake!' Hanover moved to the rear of shuttlecraft 12 and loaded more passengers, the half filled shuttles flying overhead.

The Bow of the Titanic was now fully submerged, water spilling onto the forecastle deck. Captain Hardaker looked up the boat deck, thinking to himself about what was happening. 'Only three type 6 shuttles left. Mr Hawkins, begin preparing the type 15 shuttles for launch.' Walking onto the bridge, Hardaker moved to the Master Systems Display and tapped the console, the image now moving in the same motion as the ship. '_Master Systems Display changed to show current angle of Starship Titanic.' _Hardaker sat in the Captain's bridge, the viewscreen in front of him showing the time left until the end. Around him, he heard water gurgling up through access points and gangways, spilling over the deck 3 promenade entrance, at the bow.

The angle of the Titanic had increased, the bow now pulling the ship down, slowly. Officer Hawkins was leading passengers up to the last shuttles, two type 15's, on the bridge roof. Inside the ship, maids and stewards marshalled passengers up through the grand staircase, the water on deck 4 now spilling onto deck 3. On deck 2, Gordon Kingsley, and his butler, James Smith, sat looking at the staircase, the passengers rushing upwards as the stewards marshalled them upwards. As they sat, a steward spoke to them, handing lifejackets to them. 'Mr Kingsley, these are for you.' Kingsley looked at the jackets and handed them back, patting the steward on his shoulders. 'We are dressed in our best and are prepared to go down as gentlemen. But, we would like a brandy.' The steward nodded his head and ascended the staircase, to the first class lounge.

The water now spilled onto the deck 2 promenade, washing passengers up the enclosed promenade. In launching the type 15 shuttles, the impulse generator was damaged on shuttles 15a and 15b, as the ship lurched forward, no time to repair it. 'Crewman, take these oars. Cut a hole in the other side of the craft with your phaser and put the other oar in it. You will need to row away from the ship.' Captain Hardaker looked from the bridge wing at the commotion further up the deck, as the second type 15 shuttlecraft landed on its roof, as crewmen struggled to right it. All around him, water bubbled up through the expansion joints in the starships construction, following the contours of the planks of wood laid on top of them.

From shuttlecraft 6, Mary Stevenson looked at the titanic, its aft section rising out of the water. All around her, women sobbed as the last sight of their husbands flashed before them.

Dan Hawkins looked down the stairwell to the promenade, water forcing its way upwards. 'Daniels, activate the repulsorlift generators, at least get it to float on the water.' Passengers streamed down the deck, the ring of officers unable to hold them back. 'WILL YOU ALL STOP PUSHING. I WILL SHOOT THE NEXT MAN THAT TRIES TO PASS.' An elderly gentleman was pushed forwards, Hawkins removed his phaser and shot him, his body slumping to the deck, shocked faces around him. 'Well, don't say you were not warned. Begin loading this boat, Mr Daniels.' Dan saluted chief officer Harman, and placed his phaser to his head. The bright light hit his temple, forcing him backwards into the sea. Harman looked at the passengers, and began loading them in, two grabbing the elderly man.

The ships band looked at the commotion down the deck, and the band leader, Frank Fielding, looked at his fellow band members and lifted his PADD, and spoke. 'Computer, play near my god to thee, instrumental.' The computer bleeped, and violins appeared in front of them, the sombre song echoing throughout the deck.

Captain Hardaker looked at the main viewscreen, the image of the USS Enterprise flickering as power drained from the bridge. In his hand, he held a PADD, and he looked at a picture of his family, his wife, daughter and son, all smiling back at him. 'I'm sorry, Julia. I wish it didn't have to end this way.' Chief Officer Harman waded into the wheelhouse and handed the captain a lifejacket, which he returned and closed the door, as Harman walked back up the deck. Inside the wheelhouse, Hardaker sat in his chair, water slowly rising through the floor. 'Computer, send all sensor and crew logs out on the next emergency pulse. Authorisation Hardaker beta 214.' The computer complied, as the last blue pulse left the deflector array.

Water surged over the bridge wing, up the promenade entrance and over the decks, throwing the two shuttlecraft into the sea, as passengers and officers scrambled aboard them. On the bridge, Hardaker watched as water flowed up the two viewing windows into the bridge, the blue light of the main viewscreen extinguishing. Hardaker stood up and moved to the MSD, the angle of the ship now increasing faster than before. 'Computer, activate bridge forcefields and re-route life support to engineering and the bridge. _Forcefields active. Life support re-routed to indicated areas. Warning. Angle of starship outside normal parameters.' _Hardaker sat down in his chair again, a seatbelt wrapping around his waist. On the main bridge, the viewscreen's smashed, forcing water through the exposed frames.

Shuttle 15a, on the starboard side, floated away from the ship as passengers swam towards it, hundreds of hands grabbing the rear entrance. Behind them, shuttle 15b, on the port side, floated upside down as officers and passengers straddled the hull. The Titanic's bow section sank further down, as passengers and crew rushed towards the aft section. Suddenly, a loud snap echoed around the area, then another, and another. 'Holy Christ! The funnel is going to fall. All hands, row, now! Row if you want to live!' the funnel swayed from side to side, finally falling with a deafening roar onto the port side, crushing several passengers and creating a wave that washed shuttle 15b further away. Passengers swam for the funnel, hoping that it would provide them with refuge, but it sank rapidly, dragging 5 passengers with it.

Gordon Kingsley and James Smith watched in horror as the water surged up the staircase, smashed through the promenade windows and burst through corridor doors. The water swept the two men away, forcing them against the wall, as they slowly drowned. On the deck 1 landing, passengers grabbed for railings as they were forced upwards. The band, outside, finished their song, shook hands and walked away from each other, but they were forced through the windows, the water dragging them inside. A small child grabbed at the ankles of Harold Astley, the richest man aboard, as the water rose faster. Above them, the large glass dome shattered, as water surged in, flooding the landing and ripping the staircase from its foundations, the ship sinking even further.

Engineer Bell struggled to keep his balance as the ship lurched forward, the sound of smashing china echoing around them. 'Computer, activate engineering forcefield, and forward auxiliary power generator. _Forcefield activated. Life support has been stabilised. Warning. Structural integrity above normal parameters. Hull destruction in seventeen minutes.' _around them, consoles sparked as the power shorted out, plunging the rest of the ship into darkness.

Father Keith Jackson waved his hand in front of his face as the lights went out, the remaining passengers screams becoming louder. Loud crashed were heard from within the ship, as beds, consoles, tables and chairs surged forward. A small object shot from the side of the ship, the metal around it bending and twisting. Lorraine Sully looked in horror as the room she was in split in half, the sudden drop forcing her against the wall. The ship split with a deafening roar as metal and metal separated, the sudden drop throwing passengers from the poop deck into the sea, where the warp nacelles crushed them and forced them into the deep. Lorraine Sully stood up, as the sudden level ground allowed her to. The view was one of nightmares. Jagged metal, possessions strewn around the ruined rooms. Suddenly, water surged through the bow section, the fast dragging motion forcing Lorraine into the foaming water, impaling her onto an exposed, sharp beam.

The stern rose into the air, stopping when it was completely vertical. Passengers in the shuttlecraft watched in horror as passengers fell, tumbling into each other and onto machinery, some falling into the bubbling water. A large groan was heard from within the ship, as the port warp nacelle ripped from the hull, tumbling into the swirl of water and people. Foaming water frothed up the promenade, as the stern slowly sank, the pressure bursting her decks open. The starboard warp nacelle exploded outwards, a shower of metal and warp plasma coating the sea, vaporising struggling passengers. The stern disappeared, dragging 1500 people with it.

Mary Stevenson stood up in the shuttlecraft and walked to the commander, tapping him on the shoulder as she stood there. 'Mr. I suggest that we return to pick up survivors. These are the husbands of these women, suffering and dying, and they are distraught already enough…..' the officer stood up and turned to her, a blue light flashing on. 'Listen, Miss. There are 1500 people down there. And each one will be forcing there way into this tiny shuttle. Do you want us all to die?' Mary sat down, the women around her sobbing quietly.

The screams of the passengers died down when shuttlecraft 14 returned to the scene, the movements of passengers barely visible. 'We waited too long. We waited too long. Ensign, activate the loudspeaker and play the red alert klaxon over again. I will look for movement. The oscillating alert echoed around them, four ripples ahead of them. 'Ensign, lock transporters and beam them aboard.' Four people appeared in the shuttle, the fourth person no longer moving. 'Report to shuttlecraft 2, six people alive, and the rest dead. Final estimate is 1500 men, women and children all dead, 705 survived.'

The early morning sun broke through the clouds, illuminating the vast area of the dead and debris. 17 shuttles hovered above the site, two floated among the wreckage, shuttle 15b now holding 20 passengers, and 3 dead. Above them, two Danube class runabouts and three type 11 shuttles appeared, the registry in deep black letters on their front, 'NCC 1701 F.' in the lead runabout, Captain Simpson and Commander Data settled the ship on the surface of the water, as an image appeared on the main viewscreen. 'Sensors indicate the ship is in two pieces on the ocean floor, with a vast debris field between the two pieces.' Captain Simpson stood by the airlock, the morning breeze blowing inside the runabout. 'It was over 500 years ago; I never thought that it would happen again. 1500 people. What a waste. Can we get an accurate reading on the depth of the ship?' Data tapped the console, error sounds echoing throughout the cabin. 'No, sir. Plasma leaks from the warp nacelles are interfering with our scans. We will have to return to get an accurate reading.' Bart took a red rose from the replicator and placed it on the water, as the white faces of the dead looked peacefully at the sky.

Dr Stephanie Darrall surveyed the site from the bridge of the medical ship, USS Livingston. 'Bridge to transporter room 2. Beam all the dead directly to sickbay and cargo bay 2.' Moving to the environmental console, Stephanie lowered the temperature of cargobay 2 to -4 degrees, as the dead flooded in. 'Transport complete. All victims are in the indicated areas.'

Chief Officer Harman sat in the messhall of the USS Henderson, still wearing his sodden uniform. Around him, other officers and passengers sat too, warm cups of soup or coffee in their hands. Harman looked to the door as Captain Simpson walked in, and sat next to Harman. 'Officer, I know this will be painful, but I need you to tell me exactly what happened.' Harman placed his cup on the table in front of him, and burst into tears. 'There was nothing we could do. The captain, he stayed on the bridge, as did chief bell. They must be dead. Oh, why? Why! Why!' Harman threw the cup at the wall, the porcelain shattering on contact with the metal wall. 'I blame that bloody fool Harding for all this. Him and his headlines. "We can get to Tau Centi Prime in four days. Lets push her some more. Sod the meteors they pose no threat. Bollocks do they. I hope he rots in a penal colony for this. And hew lived. I would have shot him on the spot. The fu...' Bart put his hands in Harman's shoulders, and sat him down. 'Officer, calm down. You did the best you could. Now, get some rest. You need it.'

Seventy years later

The Wreck of the Titanic sat 2000 meters below the northern ocean of Centauri 4, the Centaurans now in a renaissance era of development. After seventy years of arguments, investigations and treaties, the current government of Centauri Alpha agreed to allow three starships, the three ships who responded to the original distress call, returned to the site.

Three starships sat in orbit of Centauri 4, the Enterprise, Henderson and Livingston. Onboard the Enterprise, commotion filled the bridge as each officer hurried to a station, the frantic search for the Starship Titanic entering its final phase. In the ready room, an Elderly Captain Simpson looked over the data from the sensor readings. 'Surely the plasma leak should have cleared after all this time. Really, seventy years.' A young ensign, James Troi, looked at the Captain and handed him another PADD. 'Captain, mother always said that you were never satisfied with basic information. That's why shuttlecraft Janeway is prepared for launch in two minutes.' Captain Simpson smiled as he rose from the desk, taking his walking stick in hand. 'That's exactly what your father would have done, and Captain Picard. So, to the shuttlebay!'

Shuttlecraft Janeway stopped over the site of the Titanic, a solitary red rose floating among the empty water. 'Has this been prepared for underwater investigation?' James pressed a button, and ablative armour covered the shuttle, as it sailed downwards into the sea, a vast blanket of darkness enveloped them, the only light from the shuttles forward lamp. '_Metallic objects 500 meters away.' _ The viewscreen zoomed in, and a familiar sight greeted Captain Simpson. 'It's the Titanic! Scan for life-forms and 24th century technology.' The shuttle stopped, as an image appeared on the screen. 'Captain? Captain Simpson? Is that you?

Captain Hardaker sat in the wheelhouse, the room exactly as it was seventy years ago. Next to him, Captain Simpson and Ensign Troi scanned him, astonished to find him completely healthy. 'How did you survive for so long? Surely, you must have run out of power by now.' Hardaker laughed and showed the two men analysis on the main viewscreen. 'The backup power generator was activated by engineer bell before the ship sank. Thankfully, it is located on deck 1; section 12, which were protected by the bridge forcefield. It also saved my quarters and the officer's mess, which had an industrial replicator and a food replicator inside. I survived because I had to. Tell me, how many passengers died?' Bart handed him a PADD, and moved to the MSD. '1500 dead. Oh, and I see that good Mr Harding survived. The bastard. Is he in a penal colony? Dead? Scot free? I hope he is dead, because I will kill him if he is still alive.' Bart changed the screen on the PADD, and a newspaper report appeared. 'It is from the Starfleet Lancet. Harding was found dead in his office at White star headquarters in 2399. He hung himself.' Hardaker seethed as he handed Bart the PADD. 'That coward. A coward in life, a coward in death. That sums up Vernon Harding.'

The shuttlecraft banked away from the bow, charting the devastation as it went around. Approaching the debris field, the remains of a warp nacelle jutted from the mud, charred and jagged metal at the bussard collector end. The stern was in a state of even worse devastation. 'Captain, sensors have indicated that the stern imploded under the pressure of the final stages of sinking.' The shuttle stopped above the poop deck, as the three beamed into engineering.

Engineer Bell sat in his office, his eyes closed as if he was asleep. Around him, the bodies of the brave engineers that struggled to keep the power gong as the ship sank laid at their posts, slumped over their consoles. 'They must have died when the stern hit the bottom. The poor man. He loved this job. I chose him myself, along with my crew. Can we take him with us, and the others?' Bart nodded silently, and tapped his combadge, the Livingston helmsman responding. 'John, beam the occupants of the engineering section to the morgue aboard the Livingston, and set course for earth. Also, tell the Henderson to remain here and chart the wreck. Under no circumstances are they to attempt to recover any parts of the wreck other than the items Starfleet wants. Simpson out.' Blue lights flashed around them as the bodies disappeared, leaving an empty room. 'Well, we should leave, and let nature take its course. Computer, three to beam up, energize.' The three disappeared as the forcefield collapsed, sending thousands of gallons of water into the vast space.

The Starship Titanic remains an enduring fantasy, much like her predecessor. The lives of those lost still pose questions, why? How? For what cost? After seventy years, the questions can finally be answered. The search was over.


End file.
